


the days are getting longer

by statusquo_ergo



Series: a fire in the sage's mansion [2]
Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluffy Ending, M/M, Post-Season/Series 07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 22:18:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14066787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/statusquo_ergo/pseuds/statusquo_ergo
Summary: Things are going great in California, of course, that has nothing to do with why Mike spontaneously decided to take a trip back to New York for an indefinite time frame, but as long as he's in town, he might as well stop by Specter Litt to see how things have been going since Harvey took the reins.





	the days are getting longer

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: I wish you would write a fic where Mike comes back to NY for a visit and find out the Specter-Litt associate program is very different. How about a Rookie Award created by Harvey?? And Mike would be surprised that he’s kinda of an idol for the new associates. Or maybe just a fic where Harvey takes over the program and is actually good at teaching and supporting the associates

Coming back to New York is exactly like riding a bike.

Well, no, not exactly, but it’s not too far off; the city’s changed in the two years he’s lived in California, some of the landmarks he looks for having closed down or moved away, but there’s a certain feeling in the air, an atmosphere that he feels right away, something that can’t be replicated anywhere else. A towering presence that overwhelms tourists and out-of-towners but makes Mike feel like he belongs, like he’s somewhere that he’s comfortable giving directions to strangers and making recommendations about how to best utilize the subway system.

Coming back to Specter Litt LLC, on the other hand, is like having an out-of-body experience.

The building looks the same as it did on his last day, of course, being a well-built structure with a fairly straightforward décor, but even though Mike recognizes the security guard and, even after all this time, she recognizes him, he can’t just swan over to the elevators, can’t just smile and nod and head on up on a whim.

Of course, because she recognizes him, she does let him go without calling ahead to warn anyone, so that’s something.

Stepping out on the fiftieth floor, Mike takes a moment to breath in the familiar air, that faint scent of toner and plastic with just a touch of whatever perfumes and colognes the associates leave traces of as they scurry back and forth across the floor all day long. The phone at the reception desk rings, and Mike smiles at the familiar tone, the cordial “Specter Litt LLC, how may I direct your call?”

Flashing his visitor’s pass to the distracted receptionist, Mike strolls down the hall as though he belongs there, as though he never left. Donna and Louis huddle over the same desks in the same glass-walled offices they occupied back in the day, and it’s nice, really, to see that things are swimming along smoothly in his absence. It’s…really nice.

Harvey’s office hasn’t changed a bit.

Mike considers standing in the hall until Harvey notices him, but “creepy” isn’t exactly the vibe he’s going for on this trip.

“Hello,” he says, pushing the door open, “I was wondering if I could talk to you about _Je-_ sus.”

Harvey’s doesn’t bother to look up from his desk as continues hectically annotating the documents sprawled before him. “Look, pal, I don’t know how you got past security, but get the fuck out of my office before I have to call the coroner.”

“Aw, Harvey,” he taunts, “you’re holding on too tight; you’ve lost the edge.”

A troubled crease deepens in his brow, but Harvey raises his head with such a perfectly bewildered expression on his face that Mike is hard pressed to keep from laughing and sorely wishes he’d had the foresight to bring a camera.

“Mike?” Harvey puzzles, cautiously rising to his feet as he drops his pen. It’s understandable; they haven’t spoken in nearly a month, haven’t seen each other since Mike’s big move across the country, but at Mike’s nod, a wide smile breaks across his face and he shoves his chair back, storming around his desk to pull Mike in and hold him tight.

“I’d love to hear about Jesus,” he says, belatedly, but Mike smiles brightly all the same. “Shit, Mike, what are you doing here? You should’ve called, I would’ve taken the day off.”

Mike shrugs. “It was kind of spur-of-the-moment,” he evades, ignoring the part where any trip from California ought to require at least a couple of days’ planning ahead, if not a full week. Harvey nods, content to give him a pass, and thumps his hand down on Mike’s shoulder.

“It’s great to see you,” he says. “What’s on the schedule, how are you spending your day?”

“Zero plans,” Mike replies. “My itinerary pretty much starts and ends with ‘Swing by Harvey’s office and scare the living shit out of him.’”

“I’d say you only get partial credit on that one.”

“Cut me some slack, I’m out of practice.”

Harvey grins.

For a minute there, it’s almost like old times.

“Hey,” Harvey says with a derisive glare back at the mess he was so enraptured with a moment ago, “what do you say I take you out to lunch? I think we’ve got some catching up to do.”

Understatement of the century. Mike’s smile dims a bit, but he nods all the same.

“Can’t wait to hear about all the pro bono work you’ve been doing,” he says as Harvey scoffs.

“What do you think I have all these associates for?”

Mike chuckles.

“How about The Modern?” Harvey suggests, keeping his eyes on Mike as he backs up to the coat closet.

“I dunno,” Mike hedges, “I’m really feeling like a good old burger that’s made of actual beef.”

Slipping into his coat, Harvey claps Mike on the back and ushers him out the door, back to the elevators. “The Smith it is.”

Mike smirks. “You’re a stand-up guy, Harvey.”

“Damn right I am.”

As they make their way past Louis’s office, Mike is reasonably certain he sees Louis look up at the pair of them; oddly enough, he doesn’t try to butt in on their reunion or invite himself to lunch, merely smiling and lowering his gaze back to his laptop. Well that’s something new; all that therapy must be doing wonders.

Harvey leaves his hand on Mike’s back as they ride down to the lobby as though he’s afraid Mike will make a break for it, or disappear into thin air like the illusion he must be. He won’t go, of course, but it’s kind of nice that Harvey cares so much. That he’s so concerned.

“So what are they feeding you in California that you’re so desperate for red meat?” Harvey asks as they make their way down Third.

Mike scoffs loudly. “Rachel’s trying to go vegan. Again. And she says she’s not trying to make me do it, she says she doesn’t care what I eat, but I mean I’m not gonna buy a pack of bacon and leave it lying around, I don’t wanna do that to her.”

Harvey pats his shoulder consolingly. “Fight the good fight, sir.”

Mike laughs. To his ear, it comes off a little delirious, but Harvey doesn’t seem to notice.

“So how about you,” he says, “how’s everything on the home front? You and Donna tie the knot yet?”

“Please,” Harvey mutters. “You remember when she kissed me? Right before you left? We didn’t speak for three days, then she invites me up to her apartment and tries to tell me how vulnerable she’s feeling, how she doesn’t feel like I respect her—”

“Wasn’t that right after you promoted her?” Mike cuts in, and Harvey nods.

“Which I pointed out to her, but she starts talking about the difference between professional and personal respect, and I reminded her that I’m not just her boss anymore, I’m _everyone’s_ boss, and what she did was totally out of line and I could have her fired.”

“You could fire her,” Mike says.

“Right,” Harvey agrees, “exactly, so then she starts talking about our history, everything we’ve been through together, and I just tell her flat out that I know she’s a capable woman, and a capable employee, but sexual harassment crosses the line, and I’m cutting her some slack _because_ of everything we’ve been through together, but it has to stop and that’s that.”

“‘Capable employee’?” Mike parrots as they reach the restaurant. “I take it she stopped gunning for a partner position.”

“She actually really settled in as our COO,” Harvey admits, pushing the door open. “Eventually. Mostly. Nothing I can’t handle. Anyway I’m pretty sure she’s finally given up on her and me; she and Louis are giving it another shot, though, so that’s keeping them both in line for the time being.”

Mike nearly trips over his own feet for how dramatically he stops walking. “She and _Louis?_ ” he exclaims, to the apparent amusement of the hostess. “Wait, _another_ shot? What the hell’s been going on back here?”

“Two?” the hostess cuts in with a smile that Harvey returns with a nod, following her into the back of the restaurant to a table in the corner. He takes the seat closer to the wall, and Mike makes a hurried gesture as he sits opposite, a silent demand for the dirtier details.

“They were on, and then they were off, and now they’re on again,” Harvey summarizes. “As far as I’m concerned, the less I know about it, the better.”

Mike’s shoulders sag as he drops his hands into his lap, staring at Harvey like the world as he knows it has been flipped upside down.

“Donna and Louis,” he marvels after a beat. “Who would’ve thought.”

Harvey nods indifferently. “They seem happy together.”

Mike’s eyes go out of focus as he pulls his napkin out from under his silverware and smooths it over his lap. Things sure have moved along around here. Not that he expected the firm to stagnate without him, especially with Harvey at the helm; it’s just that he thought he might have made some kind of impact, or something.

No, that’s too petty. Too small. He’s just one guy who probably caused more problems than he solved, and it’s good that the firm’s managed to put that blemish on its record firmly in the past.

Once he’s managed to get out of his own head, finally, remembering to focus on where he is, what he’s doing, and, most importantly, who he’s with, he catches a twinkle in Harvey’s eye, an eagerness that surely has nothing to do with the tawdry gossip of Donna and Louis’s shocking romance.

“What?” he prompts as Harvey adopts an indignant expression.

“What?” Harvey mimics.

Mike fixes him with an even glare. “What are you dying to tell me about?” he elaborates. “New girlfriend? New condo? New U.S. Supreme Court summons?”

“New cufflinks,” Harvey corrects, raising his wrist. “But that’s not even the most interesting thing I have to tell you about.”

“See, now you’ve got my hopes up.”

Smiling in a very specifically restrained sort of way, one that Mike is fairly impressed he still recognizes after all this time, Harvey shakes his head, turning his attention to his menu. “When we get back to the firm,” he says. “I’ll show you.”

For a second, Mike considers trying to guess what Harvey has planned, but every thought that races through his brain involves some combination of fraud and abject humiliation, and he doubts that Harvey would be so excited about something like that. He hopes not, at any rate. It’s probably a safe bet.

Pretty safe.

“Fine,” he mutters petulantly, folding his arms across the table and glaring down at his own menu as Harvey chuckles under his breath. He doesn’t know why he bothers to look; they both order Smith Burgers, extra pickles.

“So how are things out in the Golden State?” Harvey asks as the waiter walks away. “Everything you ever imagined?”

Mike tries to smile, really he does; Harvey doesn’t mean anything nefarious by the question, he just wants to know how Mike is doing. _What_ Mike is doing, that he’s happy with his new life. Because he is, right? He must be, because otherwise what was the point of any of it?

Harvey sets his hand down on the tabletop. “Mike?”

“It’s good,” Mike says readily, “it’s good. It’s…sunny, and friendly, and there’s beaches, and frozen yogurt everywhere. And biking, good— Uh, it’s good for biking.”

Harvey’s lips pinch a little, his eyes quirking up at the corners, and Mike clears his throat.

“It’s nice,” he allows. “It is. But sometimes I miss the city, you know? I wanted a change of scenery, but I guess I expected to want it for…longer. I mean it’s cool being in California, but after awhile everything starts to feel sort of like…”

He scowls at himself as he tries to gather his thoughts, and Harvey nods.

“It’s not New York.”

Mike leans back in his chair, bracing his hands on the table. “Yeah.”

That’s gotta be it.

Harvey takes a long drink from his water glass. “So,” he says as he sets the glass back down, sounding far too cheerful to be genuine, “how’s Rachel?”

His smile isn’t forced in any particular way that Mike can name, but he likes to think he knows Harvey pretty well, and he can see that it doesn’t match up with whatever he’s feeling behind the words. Of course, Harvey’s never been Rachel’s biggest fan, so maybe it’s not such an impressive thing to notice.

“She’s doing well,” Mike allows. “I thought it was pretty nice of her to agree to keep living with me after we broke up.”

To his credit, Harvey doesn’t slam his palm down against the silverware, and he doesn’t shout, and he doesn’t swear; his eyes widen a little, but all in all, he handles the news with admirable restraint. Maybe the more impressive part is that he doesn’t scold Mike for not telling him when it happened, which is nice, considering how much Mike regrets not having done so immediately and never quite working up the nerve to make the call, no matter how many times he tried to talk himself into it.

“You broke up?” Harvey asks in such a feathery tone that Mike isn’t sure he believes it. “When was this?”

“Eight months after we moved,” Mike estimates, “give or take. We tried,” he dismisses easily, “you know, we talked, we saw a therapist, we took some time apart, but the way things played out once we actually got to San Diego… It wasn’t gonna work out. After awhile, I think we both knew it.”

Harvey frowns his puzzled frown, the one that lines his brow across the middle. “I’m impressed you’re still okay living together after that.”

“Well,” Mike tries to keep his tone lively, “like I said, it was pretty nice of her.”

The lines in Harvey’s brow deepen, and Mike isn’t going to get away with leaving it at that. He shrugs, sliding his finger underneath the arc of his spoon and looking a ways above Harvey’s head.

“Seeing as how her salary’s so much higher than mine.”

The waiter returns with their burgers and extra pickles; Harvey’s too distracted, or too distraught, to thank him, and Mike’s “Thank you so much” comes out a little too effusive, but the guy takes it in stride and walks away with a practiced smile.

“What do you mean her salary’s higher than yours?” Harvey manages, eventually, holding a French fry above his plate seemingly just to have something to do with his hands. “You’re twice the lawyer she is, when she left here she’d handled—what, two cases, you’ve been practicing for nearly ten years now!”

“Yeah, five of them illegal,” Mike points out.

“Acquitted on all charges!”

“And yet somehow they find it in their hearts to hold it against me.”

Harvey frowns mightily, pinching the French fry between his fingers so hard that half of it breaks off and falls back to the plate. “Who does?”

Mike offers a sardonic smirk. “Every major firm in Cali, pretty much. I must’ve had interviews twice a day once I got out there, and it was still about six months before I got so much as a callback.”

Regardless of what he probably thinks, it’s not Harvey’s fault, of course; none of them expected the darker parts of Mike’s history to follow him all the way across the country, although if they were banking on his impressive record of service at PSL proving his worth and padding his résumé, maybe it should have occurred to _somebody._

“So where are you working now?” Harvey asks as Mike takes a bite of his burger. “Another legal clinic?”

Mike shakes his head and swallows. “No, it’s actually a pretty decent firm; Kaplan Preston Haynes, they’re full service, same as PSL. I mean Specter Litt,” he corrects, even though the words still feel weird to say after all this time. “Same as Specter Litt. I work mostly in the Corporate division.”

“I would’ve thought you’d go for defense,” Harvey posits, “or human rights. Isn’t that why you left in the first place, you wanted to get away from Wall Street?”

“Hey,” Mike laughs it off, “it took me this long to get my foot in the door, I go where they tell me. They think I’ve got experience in Corporate, you know what, they’re right; I’ll do my time there, I’ll earn myself a new reputation, and climb the ranks with a clean slate until I get enough capital that I can go off and do whatever I want.”

Whatever that is. He’ll figure it out.

“And where’s Rachel working that she makes more than a corporate attorney at a major firm?” Harvey asks coolly, already prepared to disapprove. Mike tries not to feel too prideful at his unqualified support, though his coy little grin is probably a dead giveaway.

“Gerety and Linden,” he replies, “family law. She’s already a senior associate, I think they want to put her on that partner track.”

Harvey might roll his eyes if he had a little less dignity.

“So you’re just planning to tough it out at this major firm that doesn’t appreciate you until you can afford to quit,” Harvey summarizes, “and meanwhile your ex-wife is letting you crash on her couch because you’re both such nice people?”

Mike laughs into his chest. “How come it never sounds that pathetic when I’m saying it?”

Harvey shakes his head and takes a bite out of one of his pickles.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, chewing their burgers and sinking into a familiar old comradery as the restaurant continues to bustle around them.

Mike thinks about asking for a Coke.

“You ever think about coming back?”

He doesn’t really want one.

“What,” he asks, dunking a French fry in too much ketchup, “you mean to the firm?”

He meant to New York, obviously, but Harvey doesn’t seem as taken aback as Mike expected by the deliberate misinterpretation.

“I meant the East Coast,” Harvey says.

What he doesn’t say, no matter how long Mike waits, is: “But there’ll always be a place for you at Specter Litt.” He wonders if that’s because it’s implied, or because it isn’t true anymore; nice try, kid, but that bridge is burnt, swept away by the river below.

“I’ve thought about it,” Mike admits. Truthfully, he might have done it by now, if only it didn’t feel so much like giving up.

Harvey nods. “But you gotta make your mark at that new firm.”

Mike chuckles awkwardly.

“Actually, KPH is pretty strict about the whole ‘up or out’ thing; I’m not sure I’ll last long enough to get that far.”

“You’ll make it.”

It’s not the first time he’s heard that; Rachel has always been supportive, reassuring, encouraging, et cetera, et cetera. A couple of the other associates have been pretty nice about the whole thing, too, especially those of them looking to advance into other specialties where Mike won’t be perceived as much of a threat. Hell, Mike’s said it to himself on more than one occasion.

The thing is, though, it’s never made him feel quite so certain as it does this time around.

He shakes his head.

“I don’t want to.”

“Oh, come on,” Harvey pushes, “you said it yourself, it’s a good firm, so what’s the harm? You’ve got money, you can handle a few more years at the grind.”

“No,” Mike repeats, “I don’t want to. I don’t want to build myself up in that firm, I don’t want to do whatever they decide I need to do to prove myself, even though I’ve already proven a hundred times over that I can do everything they’ve asked me to. I went out there to do some good in the world, I went out there to prove that I can do more than just make rich people richer, that I can actually _help_ people, people who can’t help themselves. But what am I doing instead, sitting in the dark at a cubicle on the ground floor while these assholes pretend they don’t know what I’m capable of, while they pretend that they don’t know they’re taking advantage of me?”

He’s nearly spitting, his voice rising and his face beginning to flush, but who gives a fuck, this has been going on too long and these people have to learn that they can’t just throw him a bone every now and again and expect him to keep hanging on for scraps, they _can’t,_ it’s not _fair._

“Fuck,” he rages, “Harvey, if I wanted to keep being a corporate lawyer, I would’ve stayed here! At least then I still would’ve been with you!”

Shit, that didn’t come out right.

Some of the other restaurant patrons look over at them with varying degrees of pity and irritation, although most ignore them entirely, or pretend to; Mike slouches down in his seat and tries to disappear.

It doesn’t work particularly well.

Harvey coughs into his fist and flags a waiter down for their bill.

“You’re really unhappy out there,” he murmurs when she’s gone, coming to a startling realization all at once and trying to ease himself into it without being overwhelmed. “I thought it was just taking you awhile to settle in.”

Mike crosses his arms over his chest and shrugs. Maybe it’s a little bit of both.

The waiter returns in a moment, and Harvey passes off his American Express without checking to see if they’ve been stiffed.

“What if I wanted dessert?” Mike asks, because it’s a joke, it’s the sort of thing he would say under normal circumstances, and that’s what this is, that’s what these are. Totally normal, totally good.

Harvey smirks, his mouth pulling in such a way that Mike knows he’s trying not to laugh out loud.

“Trust me,” he says, leaning forward. “This is gonna be better.”

Mike tosses his napkin down on the table. “If you say so.”

Harvey doesn’t say another word, pocketing his credit card when the check comes back and signing off on a thirty percent tip. Mike smiles at the hostess in a meager apology for causing a scene, but she only smiles back and tells him to have a nice day, and he wonders if she even knows he was the one who made all that noise. Maybe she doesn’t mind. Maybe she assumes it was for a good reason.

Maybe Harvey has that kind of effect on people.

As they walk back to the firm faster than they walked away from it, Mike stops himself from asking, again, what the big surprise is. He doesn’t want to ruin it. He doesn’t want to know.

He kind of really does, though.

But no, asking would just annoy Harvey, which is absolutely the _last_ thing Mike wants, so instead he clenches his fists and bites down on his grin and trots along with a fluttery feeling in his stomach and a funny electric sort of hum in the back of his head. Is it a massive deal that’ll keep Specter Litt in the black for years to come? Is it some big-name client Harvey can use for bragging rights at cocktail parties? Is it an LP of The Spinners’ “Love (I’m So Glad) I Found You” signed by the band’s founding members?

Mike should probably stop guessing.

In the elevators, Harvey presses the button for the fiftieth floor, and Mike wonders why he’s so surprised that whatever Harvey plans to show him really is in the office. How did he miss it when he was there? Is it something small? Intangible? Maybe it really is a new client, maybe Harvey really is proud of some new piece of business.

Rather than heading down the hall to his office, Harvey guides Mike to the bullpen, of all places, opening the door with all the brazenness a managing partner deserves and ushering him inside.

The first surprise is that the associates don’t all freeze in terror at Harvey’s appearance.

The second, which overshadows the first by a wide margin, is that those few associates who do bother glancing up to see who’s arrived are definitely more interested in Mike than they are in Harvey, hitting their neighbors’ shoulders and muttering to one another as they try to look at him without looking like they’re looking.

Mike turns to Harvey with an expression he imagines to be somewhere between mildly anxious and downright paranoid.

“Harvey,” he whispers, “why are they staring at me?”

“Never meet your heroes,” Harvey whispers back, which is certainly a phrase he’s heard before even though he doesn’t quite understand the present application.

“Mister Specter,” one of the associates says then, walking up to him with a thick file in her hands, “I finished the research on the Robledo case, do you want to look at it before I give it to Mister Hermann?”

Biting his tongue to keep from loudly sucking a breath in through his teeth, Mike braces himself for Harvey to eviscerate the poor girl for daring to speak to him unbidden about something totally routine that she has to know he won’t care about. At least she had the foresight not to use his first name, though, so maybe he won’t rip her completely to shreds.

The third surprise blows the second out of the water.

“I’m sure you’d tell me if you found anything I needed to be concerned about,” Harvey says, firmly but not cruelly, and as the associate nods, Mike wonders if she really thought she needed to run that by Harvey or if she, like most of the others, apparently, is just trying to soothe some weird fascination with…Mike. Of all people.

Is this some kind of YouTube thing? Is he about to have a bucket of ice water dumped on his head?

“Mike, let me introduce you,” Harvey says then, gesturing to the associate as she straightens her back and holds her head up proudly. “This is Alexandra Carver, she’s the most recent recipient of the Michael James Ross Prize for Innovation in Practice and Methodology. I think the kids call it the ‘Rookie Award.’”

Mike isn’t sure if a bucket of ice water was literally just poured over him or it just feels that way.

“Congratulations,” he says to Alexandra, who smiles and shakes his hand. “The _what?_ ” he asks of Harvey, who smiles too, albeit somewhat more smugly.

“Miss Carver, I’m sure Bill’s waiting on your report,” Harvey says to Alexandra. She nods, smiles again at Mike, and scurries back to her desk. “Mike, let’s go back to my office,” he says to Mike. Gazing out on the associates who have stopped trying to hide the quiet awe with which they’re staring at him, he nods as well, letting Harvey take his arm and urge him out the door.

They walk down the hall past a large print of an antique camera that looks vaguely familiar, but definitely wasn’t there when Mike used to work here.

Harvey pats him on the shoulder and holds his office door open. Mike enters and thinks about taking a seat, but the idea of being stationary for too long makes him twitchy.

“So,” Harvey says.

“The Michael James Ross Prize?” Mike replies.

Harvey shrugs. “After you left, I decided I needed to shore up our staff. The bedrock of our operations.”

“And the best way to do that was with an award?”

“Not just that,” Harvey elaborates. “I spent some time with the reorganization, opening up communications between the associates and the partners; Katrina’s in charge of them, officially, but it’s mostly just a coordinating position. Administrative. She matches the junior associates with senior associates, the senior associates with partners; she’s good at it, she’s got a good eye for whose styles go best with whose. Who’ll be the best mentor for who, that kind of thing, and if the partners have issues with their associates, they can bring them up with her, she’ll set the associates straight. Or if it’s the other way around, I can talk to the partners.”

Holy shit, talk about renovations. Mike shakes his head slowly, disbelievingly, as a smile steals across his face; Harvey hasn’t just taken over the firm, he’s transformed it. This is fucking amazing.

“But there is an award,” he reminds him. Harvey raises his hands modestly.

“Louis thought it would be a good incentive.”

“An award named after me,” Mike deadpans, to Harvey’s great amusement.

“That part might’ve been my idea.”

Mike shakes his head again. “What even _is_ it?”

“A prize for first-year associates for innovation in practice and methodology,” Harvey says. At Mike’s blank stare, he lifts his hand again, wringing his wrist vaguely. “For thinking outside of the box. Nothing illegal, nothing to reframe the practice of law as we know it, just something clever, something that might not have occurred to the partners. They don’t have to win the whole suit, as long as the idea pulled off whatever they were aiming for.”

“After the first year, I guess the work is its own reward,” Mike postulates as Harvey grins.

“See, I knew you’d get it.”

Mike isn’t sure he does, actually. A whole prize, named after _him,_ rewarding associates for what, for doing their jobs properly? When he was an associate at PSL, Mike only worked as hard as he could, the same as all the other associates. He might’ve been Harvey’s favorite, he’s not blind to that ridiculously obvious fact, but all he did was his best. Nothing so spectacular as to leave such an impression. Such a _legacy._

So maybe…

No. He wouldn’t.

But would he?

Mike clears his throat. “You’re not trying to replace me,” he says in the lightest tone he can manage. “Are you?”

It was a joke. Really. A joke. I was kidding.

Harvey gets it.

His face not quite falling, or at least, not in the conventional sense, Harvey leans against his desk, resting his hands along the edge and looking at Mike with the utmost care and concern, as though he knows he’s offended him somehow (as though he could ever), as though all he wants is to make sure Mike is alright, is safe, is happy.

He is. He is.

Yeah, Harvey gets it.

“Mike,” he says in a tone exactly as Mike would expect, exactly befitting the situation, or what it’s become. “Mike, I could never replace you.”

Mike looks away, nodding at the ground. “Sarbanes-Oxley,” he says thickly, the first thing he can think of to remind himself of his own worth, the first hint that he might not be just another cardboard cutout corporate shill. Might be someone worth taking a chance on.

Harvey laughs, but only for a second.

“I’m not trying to build another you,” he avows. “I’m trying to make sure this firm remembers all the good you did. I’m making sure _I_ remember all the times you pulled my ass out of the fire.”

“Harvey…”

“Mike, do you have any idea how fast you climbed the ranks when you were here?” Harvey asks. “Do you have _any_ idea how unusual it is for an associate to be promoted to junior partner after just four years? And don’t think you got it because you lied about anything; you got it because the partners, the ones who didn’t even know your secret, the ones who weren’t worried about covering their own asses, they saw how valuable you were and they decided they needed to keep you around. You got it because you’re that good, and all I wanted to do was show these kids that if they’re willing to do the work, if they’re willing to go the extra mile and make the extra effort, then maybe it’ll be worth it to keep them around, too.”

Worth it to keep them around.

Mike rubs his hand across his mouth.

“You sure do know how to make a guy feel wanted,” he stammers.

Harvey’s wide smile makes his eyes crinkle up at the edges.

“No one could ever replace you.”

Mike knows the feeling.

He clears his throat loudly, blinking a few times.

“So, hypothetically,” he says, a bit off to the side, “seeing as how I’m so irreplaceable; let’s say, hypothetically, that I was interested in getting away from California for awhile, do you…do you think there might be a place for me? Maybe around here somewhere?”

Standing up from his desk, Harvey looks him straight in the eye and takes a slow step forward.

“Anywhere I am,” he pledges, “there’ll be a place for you, too, if you want it.”

“If he wants it,” what a stupid qualifier. As if Mike would ever turn his back on Harvey.

Okay, maybe that one time with the Sidwell thing. And the thing with Gallo, right before he left, and maybe moving to California, that might qualify, too.

And yet, after all this time…here he is. Here they are.

Well, at least no one can say he hasn’t learned from his mistakes.

Eventually.

“Well,” he muses, “maybe it wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world if I stuck around and showed these kids a thing or two.”

“You have to defend your records,” Harvey agrees.

“I’ve gotta set some new ones.”

Harvey smiles like the proverbial cat with a canary, or the stereotypical kid on Christmas morning, or the representational clam with its coincidentally U-shaped valves, except that his eyes are sparkling and his face is a little flushed and the whole room seems a lot brighter and none of those clichés are quite enough to get it right.

Mike reaches out for a handshake that Harvey returns by opening his arms for a hug.

He burrows in close, and yeah, that’s better.

“I bet it’ll be nice to be back in a bullpen that’s not right at street level,” Mike mumbles into Harvey’s neck.

“What?” Setting his hands on Mike’s shoulders, Harvey pushes him back, holding him at arm’s length. “You think I’m hiring you as an associate?”

Mike puts one of his hands up over Harvey’s and tilts his head. “Isn’t that where the new hires usually start out? Bottom of the ladder?”

“Is that the kind of crap they’ve been feeding you in San Diego?” Harvey rejoins. “Mike, I was this close to shoving your promotion to senior partner down Louis’s _throat_ when you left; if you think I’m not going to bump you right up to the top now that I’m sitting at the head of the table, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Harvey,” Mike reprimands, reveling in the weird combination of nostalgia and role-reversal, “you have no idea how much I appreciate this, how much—how much _all_ of this means to me, but I can’t just move up to the adult table because you… I don’t know, you missed me or something. I’ve got to earn my stripes first.”

The look in Harvey’s eye belies the fact that there’s more to it than a simple lack of Mike in his life, but that conversation is probably better suited to a later time. Smiling fondly, Harvey shakes his head.

“Junior partner it is, then,” he says, his tone brooking no argument.

For another couple of seconds, Mike tries to contain himself, but when it comes right down to it, it’s really not worth the effort, and anyway, who does he think he’s kidding?

Reaching his arms out, he pulls Harvey back into a tight embrace and tucks his face against his neck.

“Thank you.”

Harvey rubs his hand up and down Mike’s back.

“And don’t think you’re going to get away with just helping rich people get richer,” he scolds. “No one around here knows how to handle any of the pro bono work we’ve got on our plates, I think I need to hire someone to show them how it’s done.”

After a moment, Mike squeezes his arms tight around Harvey before he lets him go, stepping back to meet his gaze resolutely.

“I only have one condition.”

“I’d be insulted if you didn’t.”

Narrowing his eyes for a second, Mike smiles wryly and drops his arms to his sides before sticking his hands in his pockets, trying not to look too uncomfortable.

“I need you to do me a favor.”

Harvey raises his eyebrows. “What kind of favor.”

“I’m gonna need you to let me take you out somewhere.”

That’s okay, right? That was okay? They were both feeling it? Mike could’ve sworn they were, but at Harvey’s blank expression, he isn’t quite so certain.

“To dinner,” he adds hastily, although that doesn’t exactly make it better. “To thank you,” he wraps up, “for giving me another chance. To…follow my dreams.”

Harvey chuckles quietly at his blustering. “I didn’t say ‘no,’” he chides. “I’m just thinking about how it’ll look to the partners.”

“You haven’t technically hired me yet,” Mike points out. “No paperwork. No conflict of interest.”

Harvey nods contemplatively. “Yeah, that,” he agrees, “and there’s the fact that I’m everyone’s boss.”

“Your firm, your rules.”

“You got that right.”

Even though he’s positive Harvey won’t suddenly decide to shut him down, Mike’s heart is in his throat as Harvey nods slowly, reaching out his hand as though to shake Mike’s except that at the last second, he raises it up and sets it on Mike’s shoulder, still needing the confirmation that he’s really here, that this is really happening.

“Tomorrow night,” he proposes. “There’s an Italian place in TriBeCa I’ve been meaning to try.”

Mike hums. “Tomorrow’s Friday.”

“So it is.” Harvey lowers his hand as if to drop it except that he can’t move himself to completely stop holding on. “Then I guess you won’t start work until Monday. Hey,” he says abruptly, “where are you planning on sleeping during this spontaneous trip of yours?”

Actually, he’s been trying not to think about it. Mike smiles awkwardly, rolling one of his shoulders. “In a hotel?”

“Oh yeah, which one?” Harvey doesn’t give him a chance to fumble for the name of a hotel that isn’t the Ritz Carlton before shaking his head firmly. “You’re staying at my place. We’ll talk to Rachel this weekend about having your stuff shipped.”

We will?

“I’ll find a place soon,” Mike pledges, but Harvey only shakes his head again.

“Let’s cut the crap, okay? I think we both know where this is going.”

We do?

Mike grins. Yeah, okay, we do.

“Thank you, Harvey,” he says. “Seriously, thank you for everything.”

Clapping his shoulder one last time, Harvey finally drops his hands back to his sides, smiling confidently.

“Welcome back, Mike.”

Mike takes his hands out of his pockets and smiles back. They’re going to do things right this time.

All in all, they’re off to a pretty good start.

**Author's Note:**

> “Hello, we were wondering if we could talk to you about Jesus.”  
> “Great! Come in!”  
> “What?”  
> “I’d love to hear about Jesus, what’s he up to now? Come on in, come on.”  
> —Jehovah’s Witness and Bernard Black, _Black Books_ , “[Cooking the Books](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v6TeDM-wlZ4)” (s01e01)
> 
> “No, sir. I’m holding on too tight. I’ve lost the edge. I’m sorry, sir.”  
> —Cougar, _Top Gun_ (1986)
> 
> An “up or out” policy means that employees either need to be promoted within a certain time frame (generally between two and ten years, depending on the company and the industry) or quit to find work elsewhere.
> 
> [The Modern](https://www.themodernnyc.com/) is a pricey French/American restaurant in the Museum of Modern Art; [The Smith](https://thesmithrestaurant.com/) is a reasonably popular (and somewhat more reasonably priced) American bistro with a location in midtown Manhattan.
> 
> Neither Pearson Specter Litt nor any of its preceding incarnations are ever defined as any type of law firm more specific than “major”; regardless of the fact that few non-corporate cases are shown to be handled there, I refuse to believe that a “major” firm that would even entertain the notion of handling a divorce case (i.e., Esther Litt, “Hitting Home” [s05e07]) deals solely with corporate law.
> 
> “Love (I’m So Glad) I Found You” (1961) is the second single released by the American R&B/Soul group The Spinners.


End file.
